


Mal Vignettes #3

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [24]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Imprinting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal has a bad dream, and Trip has a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mal Vignettes #3

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

_He was drowning._

_He plunged down into the water, hands scrabbling for purchase, eyes open to see the sky above him, the air his lungs were burning for._

_Correction. He_ was _plunged down into the water. His hands found the sides of the container he was in—a large barrel?—but he couldn't force his head back above the water. A hand was gripping the front of his shirt, holding him under, and no amount of struggling or fighting could dislodge it._

_Faces above him laughing. He could hear them dimly, see them through the ripples of the water, the ripples he was creating with his thrashing._

_His feet didn't touch the bottom. Either this barrel was unusually deep, or he was unusually short. But such details hardly mattered. He couldn't keep his mouth closed any longer. He couldn't keep from inhaling automatically, even though he knew it would be the end of him._

_He was drowning. The water was filling his lungs. The panic was seizing his body. He couldn't have fought back even if it would have done any good._

Trip's eyes popped open in the darkness, his heart pounding, sweat sticking his t-shirt to his body. G-d, what a nightmare. When the h—l did he start having nightmares about drowning, of all things? Trip loved the water, had spent years teaching swimming and diving. Yeah, he'd had some close calls of course, but nothing that would—

A movement behind him in the bed drew his attention and he rolled over to see Mal scooting off the bed, back to Trip. "Mal?"

"Sorry, sorry," the other man muttered. "Stupid idea, I'll sleep on the floor—"

Trip crawled across the bed just in time to grab the back of Mal's shirt and pull him back to the mattress. Trip could feel the clamminess on the shirt, the thumping of Mal's heart, the shallowness of his breaths. "Was that—were _you_ dreamin' about drowning?"

"Sorry," Mal repeated, still a little breathless. "I didn't think—I should've thought—that you would get it, too—"

Trip was in no fit state to contemplate the metaphysics of how _he_ was seeing Mal's nightmares. He couldn't imagine _ever_ being in a fit state for it, in fact. But he knew what he could do right now. "C'mere," he told Mal, pulling him back into the bed.

Mal put up a token resistance that soon melted away as Trip wrapped his arms around him and pulled the blankets back up. "Was that just a nightmare," he asked gently, "or a memory?" The laughing faces looked vaguely Klingon, now that he thought about it.

"Mmmm," Mal non-answered, burrowing his face into Trip's chest, but Trip got the picture. More a memory of a nightmare. He couldn't imagine how young Mal must have been, to even fit into a barrel that size, and anger flashed through him. He pushed it aside, not wanting to upset Mal any further. He couldn't do anything about the past. Only the present.

"Shh, go back to sleep," he told Mal soothingly, running his hands through the other man's dark hair. "It was just a dream."

 

***

            Trip held a shirt up to his chest. "Should I go with this one? Or this one?" He flapped another article of clothing over the first.

            Mal looked at him in confusion from where he sat on the bed. "I don't understand. Are you trying to frighten this person? Or make it nauseous?"

            Trip narrowed his eyes at the other man. "I'll have you know, these are some of the finest tropical shirts available," he insisted.

            "I think they're a little… um…" Mal struggled to articulate the sensation.

            "Bold? Eye-catching? Cheerful?" Trip tried.

            "What's the word for something that makes you look sort of insane?" Mal queried curiously.

            Trip rolled his eyes. But the shirts went back in the closet. "Well, what would _you_ suggest, Mr. Fashion Expert?"

            Mal hopped off the bed and poked around in the closet. "I think this would look very nice," he opined, handing Trip a shirt.

            The engineer sighed. "It's kinda boring, don't you think?"

            "It's a pretty color of blue," Mal countered. "It makes your eyes look all big and shiny."

            "It brings them out," Trip corrected absently, surveying his reflection with the shirt in the bathroom mirror.

            Mal frowned. "Well, I don't think you should wear it if it's going to make your eyes pop out of your head."

            "No, it's just—Never mind," Trip decided. "You really think I should wear this, huh?"

            "Only if your goal is to look nice, and not frightening."

            "Well, I _definitely_ don't want to scare him," Trip agreed. He started to change into the blue shirt.

            "Why do you keep referring to it as _him_?" Mal asked.

            "I dunno," Trip shrugged. "Borshia just seems kinda—male to me, I guess."

            "They're hermaphrodites," Mal reminded him, pronouncing the word carefully. "They have reproductive organs for two sexes in one person."

            "I know, Mal," Trip pointed out, washing his face. "I saw the diagrams." He shuddered a little. "Nothing like seeing a person's reproductive organs before you've even shaken his hand."

            "Do you know what they _do_ with their hands?" Mal snickered. "I read it in the database. They—"

            "I don't wanna know," Trip interrupted. "And don't be rude."

            "Well, fine then," Mal said. "But you'd better be sure it washes its hands before eating."

            Trip ignored that advice. "Okay, how do I look?" he asked, presenting himself.

            "You look very nice," Mal decided. "Your eyes look all big and shiny. Does that mean they're about to pop out?"

            Trip declined to answer that as he headed for the door. "Thanks for your help, Mal. Don't wait up, okay?"

            "Okay."

 

            Jon looked up as the doors to the Mess Hall opened, surprised to see anyone else up this late. He was even more surprised when it was Mal who wandered in.

            "Hello," he said quietly, trying not to startle the man.

            "Oh, hello, Captain," Mal greeted, as if it were not unusual for the Captain of the ship to be sitting in the Mess Hall in his pajamas at 0130. Mal picked up a bowl of applesauce from the shelves and settled down on the floor by Archer's feet.

            "What are you doing here?" Jon asked, not unkindly.

            "I couldn't sleep," Mal replied, spooning up his snack.

            "Where's Trip?"

            "He's on the Recinian ship with their Chief Engineer."

            "Oh, right," Jon remembered. His tone indicated he wasn't particularly pleased with the situation. "His dinner date."

            "They're all done with dinner," Mal pointed out. "Now they're—"

            Jon held up a hand. "I don't want to know." He took a swig of his drink. "Just tell Trip to stop by Sickbay next time you see him."

            "Okay." They sat quietly for a moment. "Is that milk?" Mal indicated the glass Jon held.

            "Yes."

            Mal scooted up on his knees, leaning on Jon's leg eagerly. "Can I have some?"

            Jon vividly recalled the last time Mal had gotten into the milk. It hadn't been pretty. "I don't think Trip would want you to," he tried.

            Mal zeroed in on the slight hesitation in his tone. "Just a little bit," he wheedled. "Just a sip. Just a lick around the rim. I mean, who's the Captain here?"

            Jon smirked and, against his better judgment, handed Mal the glass. "Hey, hey, hey, give it back," he said, after Mal had taken a large gulp. "You said just a lick around the rim."

            "Obviously that estimate was inaccurate," Mal replied, unrepentant. He sat back down and picked up his applesauce, leaning his head against Jon's leg. "I don't mind if you pet me."

            "Thanks. I was just wondering." Jon reached down and began scratching Mal's head. "You seem to be settling in well," he observed, after several silent minutes.

            "Oh yes," Mal agreed. "I like it here. And I _love_ Trip. I don't want his eyes to pop out of his head. Do you think they will?" He turned to Jon with a worried expression.

            "It seems unlikely," Jon deadpanned, having no idea what Mal was talking about.

            "Where's Porthos?"

            Jon snorted. "Home. Fast asleep."

            "Does Porthos sleep on the floor, or in bed with you?"

            "Both, depending on his mood. And mine," Jon replied. "Why?"

            "I _used_ to sleep on a pillow on the floor, but now Trip lets me sleep in the bed with him," Mal revealed proudly.

            "So I've heard."

            "D'you want me to come and sleep in the bed with you, until Trip gets back?" Mal suggested.

            "I don't think that will be necessary," Jon assured him, "but I appreciate the offer."

            "Okay." Mal pushed himself up. "I'm going to go back to bed now, Captain. Good night."

            "Good night, Mal."


End file.
